GARDEN FRESH : The Glamour Radish?

More than 50 years ago in “Serve It Forth,” M.F.K. Fisher mused about the social status of vegetables. In those days, she said, offering avocados to college friends labeled her a snob, while her grandmother regarded the sort of woman who would serve artichokes as “a vulgar climber.”

Radishes have a problem socially, but one far removed from artichokes and avocados. Radishes are like a friend who is too available, too easy. It’s human nature, I’m afraid, that when it comes to putting together a party, radishes--Mr. Nice Guy--are an afterthought. Thinking about which hors d’oeuvres to offer, the host or hostess thinks: “. . . oh, and I’ll probably have radishes and French bread and a pot of sweet butter.” Planning a tossed salad: “. . . and I may as well throw in a few radishes.” Composing condiments: “. . . and don’t let me forget a dish of radishes.”

Radishes are an afterthought in the garden too. Who ever dived into a new seed catalogue and went straight to radishes? But the radishes of spring and summer in catalogues are more appealing--more amusing--every year. Not only are the round reds rounder and redder (Red Pak, for example), and the round whites rounder and whiter (Snow Belle), but white carrot-shaped icicles grow faster and more icicle-like (short top strains of White Icicle).

Splashy colors abound. Fat round Sparkler looks like a child’s top that’s red from the middle up and white from the middle down. Little-fingers of French Breakfast are scarlet dipped in cream. Plum Purple is probably closer to beet than grape, but it’s lovely. And even the blase gardener can have fun with a seedsman’s mix called Easter Eggs. These are assorted oval radishes in cherry red, cream and shades of lavender pink. Insides on all of these are pure white.

In the garden, you won’t see the pretty colors of the roots, of course, just the leaves that flutter above ground. On the whole, radishes neither add to nor detract from the landscape, since once they’re of a visible size, they’re out. That radishes are one of the fastest-maturing crops in nature--as little as three weeks--is both an advantage and disadvantage. Once they’re ready--just pull and eat--few cultivars can hang onto their sweetness and crispness for more than 10 days.

That means, ideally, we should be sowing a sprinkling of radish seeds every week or two through the season. However, most radishes are like lettuce and peas, they’re happiest when it’s cool. Spring radishes are what we’re harvesting now. Summer radishes are what you’ll sow the moment you get some seeds--ask for heat-tolerant Comets. The longer the days of summer, the longer the shapes you should sow. When days are steadily in the 80s or higher, the small orbs grow rapidly, their crisp texture turns pithy and their hint of pepper turns snappish. But I say there’s nothing wrong with feisty radishes--boon companion to cold beer.

If your summers are that hot, try French Breakfasts ( Radis Demi-Long Rose Bout Blanc , nearly 150 years old), then cool-in-the-heat White Icicles. If you sow where the plants will get bright light but not intense sunshine (such as under a tall leafy tree), and if you keep the roots mulched (soil covered with at least an inch of shredded black and white newspaper or grass clippings or old straw) and constantly watered (this is not a drought-tolerant crop), you may be able to harvest radishes all summer.

But if your radishes should bolt--flower and set seed--let them. The small tender pods are delectable!

In August or September, you can safely go back to the little roundlings--Cherry Belle is a favorite. If you’ll have frost, sow the last crop about six weeks before the first frost is expected. If your climate is balmy, experiment with sowing radishes the year around. Then start with the all-American boy, Champion, come spring.

Many gardeners mix the seeds of radishes with the seeds of slower crops such as lettuces, carrots, beets, spinach, parsnips and parsley. The radishes make good use of the free space and their aggressive seeds break the soil for the slower-to-germinate seeds. I’ve done it occasionally, principally with carrots. And one school suggests using radishes as bait for assorted beetles that hop around crops such as beans, squashes and tomatoes. I’ve tried that too, but it didn’t made a difference in my garden. Besides, I’m philosophically opposed to sacrificing one plant to another.

Crop rotation (growing in a new spot each season) is crucial to the success of annual vegetables and the health of the soil. As in-and-out as they may be, it’s wise not to grow radishes in soil where another member of the mustard family grew within the last two or three years. Where flea beetles are a problem, shelter the crop with a floating row cover from start to finish. (Polyester FRC resembles light interfacing material used in sewing. It lets sun and water in but keeps cold and insects out.)

Since I keep a map of our beds from year to year, I can quickly fill gaps in the border with radishes. But first I rake in a veil of wood ashes--they nourish the roots and inhibit pests. Being a root crop, however small, radishes want a loose moisture-retentive soil. If mine isn’t, I dig in soil amendment such as ground bark or well-rotted manure (from the nursery).

To sow, first I moisten the soil. Then I sprinkle the seeds as thinly as I can, then ruffle the soil with my hand so the seeds are covered by about one times their depth (the rule in sowing). Then I pat the soil firmly, to connect the earth with the seeds, then I water well with a fine spray (otherwise, the seeds go skittering all over the place). When the plants have developed one true leaf, they must be thinned to stand one to two inches apart, depending upon their ultimate size and shape. Thinnings go into salad. Or my mouth. . . .

Radishes are a gardener’s stolen pleasure. Sensuous curved shoulders rising in the earth are an invitation for eating. I pause a moment to push off bits of earth that cling to the rootlet, wiping the radish on my jeans or the underside of my shirt or skirt. Then I pop it in my mouth, taking a good bit of greens with it. I hold the radish in very high esteem at that moment.

But the radish is not just for eating out of hand. Think chopped raw white radishes and sweet basil over hamburgers to brighten all that brown. Think chopped raw red radishes and leaves with lime juice over pale fish. Think minced pink and purple radishes in sweet butter (1 to 2 tablespoons per stick)--a speckled nip on toast, Melba or otherwise. Think elegant radish and watercress sandwiches.

And cook them! You can prepare radish roots any way you would tiny turnips--only cook radishes till both the roots and leaves are tender-crisp. Braise and cream them as my grandmother loved to do. As for the leaves, what you’ve got on top are infant mustard greens with a mild spinachy flavor. Stir them into stir-fries. Mix them into salads, soups and other leafy greens. And leave their leaves on when offering radishes raw.

Of course, radish tulips, roses and fans are fun to carve and watch unfold in ice water. But there is more charm, I think, in a bunch of leafy radishes tied with raffia or long strands of chives as a rustic centerpiece or garnish.

But this is just half of radishes. There is the fascinating world of those grown for winter--colossal Japanese daikon, Chinese green skin/red flesh, Indian mooli and queer pods called rat tails. But that is for another time.

Sources: Nurseries and home improvement centers offer radish seeds. For a choice of 16 cultivars: Stokes Seeds, Box 548, Buffalo, N.Y. 14240. For Easter Egg II and floating row cover: Shepherd’s Garden Seeds, 30 Irene St, Torrington, Conn. 06790-6627.

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This dish is inspired by a Japanese recipe for turnips. In fact, should there be lots of baby turnips in the garden instead of radishes, try them this way.

Once radish leaves are separated from the root, both begin to wither, so leave them whole until just before preparing. If any part of a radish needs perking up, soak the whole thing in ice water an hour or two. (No matter how fresh, radishes profit from a soak.)

Bright red radishes cook to the prettiest color. You end up with a lovely rose mauve and dark green against a lustrous dark sauce. The flavors are mild; the textures, crisp and soft.

Serve the radishes separately in small bowls and let them be the one unusual dish in a simple dinner--maybe cilantro-garnished steamed chicken or fish, with white rice, a crisp salad of unpeeled cucumbers dressed with rice vinegar, and, for dessert, watermelon (reprising the rosy hue of the radishes).

Use canned clear vegetable broth or stock from simmering or steaming any mild-flavored vegetable.

RADISH ROOTS AND LEAVES SAUCED WITH SAKE AND SOY 1 pound (about 24) inch-size radishes with leaves 1/4 cup chopped red onion 1 1/4 cups vegetable broth 1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce 1 tablespoon cornstarch 1/4 cup sake or rice wine, dry Sherry or dry white wine 1 teaspoon sugar Freshly ground pepper

Rinse radishes in few changes of water until no grit remains in bowl. Cover radishes with ice water and soak 1 hour. Snip off leaves at base then spin or pat leaves dry. Chop leaves and stems into 1/2-inch pieces. Trim rootlets from radishes. Cut radishes lengthwise into 1/2 inch pieces.

In large skillet combine radishes, radish leaves, red onion, broth and soy sauce. Cover, bring to simmer over medium-high heat, then turn heat to low. Simmer until roots and greens are tender-crisp, about 7 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat.

Whisk cornstarch, sake and sugar in small bowl until blended. Whisk little radish broth into mixture, then stir mixture back into remaining radish broth in skillet. Return to heat, bring to simmer and simmer, stirring, until sauce has thickened, about 1 minute. Season to taste with pepper. Serve at once. Makes 4 servings.

Each serving contains about: 59 calories; 800 mg sodium; 0 cholesterol; 1 gram fat; 9 grams carbohydrates; 2 grams protein; 0.68 gram fiber.